Her Secret Soldier
by Lily McIntire
Summary: Det. Kate Beckett is driving him mad...he can't write. What better way to ease the pain than to invite an old friend out to lunch? Ideally takes place before 4x17.


_Author's Note: Just...something that could happen. Although I'm typically Team Beckett this season, Castle deserves some love, too. He hurts. We all hurt. It's a cycle of hurt. I'm not sure if this is a one-shot, or not...if people like it, and have ideas, feel free to bounce them to me! _

_Disclaimer: I don't write for ABC's Castle, no matter how many stars I wish upon. _

**Hunger Hurts**

Kate Beckett. Kate. K-a-t-e. Four short letters were nothing, meaningless. They didn't describe her, shine spotlights on her glamour, call attention the way her eyes could or sweep over her scars as careful as a medical examiner might if she ever…

Beckett. Buckett. Puckett. Luckett. Locket – she had one of those. Her last name failed to conquer the force with which she worked, the determination and general badass-ed-ness of the ironclad detective.

Neither were long enough words, for her – separately. Together, they spelled extraordinary.

E-X-T-R-A-O-R-D-I-N-A-R-Y. Kate Beckett. Kate Extraordinary Beckett.

He was the writer, the poet laureate of her hidden nature. Her personal, willing slave. She thought being cuffed together was (in representation of both polars of the word) awful? She should try intangible shackles on for size. He'd already fastened one around his ring finger, left hand. He was waiting for her to pick up the tiny circumference of the attached ring, and do something with it: either rip off his ring finger, or shackle herself to him, knowing no key was made along with this particular pair of cuffs.

Cuffed.

Jesus she drove him mad. Just the thought of being near enough to breathe in her breath sputtered his heartbeat. He knew that might not happen any time soon, if at all.

You see, he was withholding a bombshell from her – not his heart, no; he had already spilled his mushy guts all over her, several times, actually…their first encounter, Los Angeles, as soon as she was shot…in the coffee and bear claw he brought her each day he was lucky enough to have her – dutifully. So then, because he was hers willingly, perhaps he was not a slave, then, but a soldier. Her soldier. Her secret soldier, because she would never have any of the chivalric stuff, never admit she needed protection, a soldier. Or him. She'd never say she needed him. Even if she did.

But especially after she learned of his secret.

He rubbed the back of his head, fingers stuck up and into his lush cut. All of this time he was supposed to be working through the body of Nikki Heat number three instead spent drawling in the battleground of their…their partnership. It often overtook him, the complexity, causing him to take on the capabilities of a man with no bones in his body.

Pushing his swivel chair out behind him, Richard Castle stood. He shut his laptop on his desk, grabbed his jacket, and bolted out of the loft, successfully avoiding both of its woman tenants, whose footsteps could be heard from above. On slow days like this one, he needed more than his imagination to keep him distracted. He needed her. But he wasn't going to the precinct.

About an hour later, fingertips drumming against the speckled seafoam tabletop, he waited for lunch. He tipped back in the spindly coffee house chair, wobbling, uncertain that the chair would hold his weight above its stick legs. He would have suggested a nicer, lunch-date-appropriate coffee house, but he was in a deeply pensive state – not the best for meeting and greeting fans who might recognize him. Good, however, for talking to people who could help him escape himself, and put him back in his regular smart-assy state.

The bell on the door rang a series of dings, alerting him, his bashful gaze traveling from her black pumps, up her kind legs, to her familiar green eyes and blond top the moment she stepped into the small coffee shop. She moved slowly until she spotted him, smile bursting and eyes bright. He stood to greet her, wrapping her in a hug, nose buried in the expensive scent of her girly curls.

"Rick! It's wonderful to see you again!" She held him at arm's length, eyeing him. Could she know?

"The pleasure is mine. Shall we?" He gestured to the table, opting to move her seat out for her.

"Ever a gentleman, I see." She winked at him, friendly. He remembered why he had liked her.

"Courteous; if nothing else, my mother harboured manners in me." He smiled, eyes warming towards her. "How have you been, Madison? It's been what, a year?"

"At least! And I'm very well, thank you. Though I presume this lunch date of yours has little to do with finishing out our interrupted evening." She seemed understanding, prepared.

"I needed…a break. From writing," he began.

"Is Becks all right? No prelude, Rick."

"What? No- Beckett- er, Kate is fine." His mouth was failing him. He had so many words, disorderly, rushing, words. Which ones did he mean to say, again?

"Then you. You're not fine." She folded her arms on the table, black sheath dress comfortably hugging her body. She was so much like…

"I'm not not fine." He was suddenly very cautious, deflective…had this whim-ful idea been a mistake?

"Your nerves would cause even Captain Gates to itch!" Madison quipped. He was obviously wearing his heart so bare on his sleeve that his sleeve was beating…no use in hiding it.

"You know about Iron Gates?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Just because Katie doesn't talk about me doesn't mean she doesn't talk _to_ me, Rick. She might not have a real social life, but she has friends." Maddie laughed, Castle taken aback. "I'll have to tell her you think she's a hermit." Provoking– those social butterfly skills at work, Castle observed.

"I'd rather you not. Mention this meeting, generally." She was correct: he was nervous.

Madison stiffened, reaching a hand across the table, smoothing her fingers over his clasped hands. "Rick…I didn't mean to make this difficult for you. She…she thinks so highly of you." Castle's fallen eyes rose to meet Madison's, suddenly lacking the lighthearted, joking spirit they had just poked him with. "You're struggling with her; impatience has ended so much for her. She does it on purpose, you know, testing you. But it's…insecurity, too. She thinks if she just waits one moment more to spill her guts about how crazy she is for a guy, that he'll walk away, saving her some heartache- Lord knows how much she's already had –it's no wonder.

If you truly love her, no matter how nuts it, or she, drives you, you must not give up. You must also find a way to end the game, or she'll never stop playing it. She's damaged, Rick, you know that. But she cares for you. She really does. And she knows you…care. Too. I think…it's eating her up. She's either going to explode, or come to you, grab your ears, and swallow your tongue." She smiled, patting his hands. He was quiet.

"I think you have a fairytale going for you. Mostly because there's so much…heat, between you, and no release. You've never slept together, not one time! I would have slept with you on our first date – yup, you could have! Anyway, once you do do It, the fairytale part is going to end, and what you're left with, is either true passion for each other, or burnt flames. It's a risk, sure, with your weird kinky partnership thing going on, but, hey…you're the Prince Charming here, not her. Be charming!"

"It's not that-"

"Please! Dare to cross the police tape, Rick. Stop…being careful, with her. She's not a China doll. She's as literally bulletproof as a human can get. Stop groveling, man up, and sweep her away! Didn't Josh teach you anything?" It was a low blow, Madison obviously carried away. He was losing her, slowly but surely. He broke into her monologue, to save himself.

"I'll keep that in-"

"And don't do anything stupid. No more hooking up with ex-girlfriends, no more celebrity playboy antics. She deserves decency."

"Right." He tried to squeeze in his assurance as she took a breath.

"Rick? If you hurt her, I will not vouch for you. I'm already going against her wishes by talking to you. 'Interfering', as she likes to remind me. She'll shun me if she finds out."

"I had no idea you were Amish!" Smart-assy state reestablished.

"Are you listening?" Madison frowned. She's one to speak of impatience.

"Of course," he nodded appreciatively, "and I am grateful for your jeopardizing your commitment to the Amish church to speak with me. " He winked.

"As long as we have an understanding. I need to order a coffee and hail a cab to make it back to work before my break is over-"

"I'd be happy to drive you."

"Meeting in a run-down coffee house is one thing, but being in your car? She'll smell me, weeks from now. She has superpowers."

"True. But I have Lysol." He grinned, rising and offering his arm to her as she stood from their table. He thought she murmured something along the lines of, "It's your ear…"

"Can a girl get a cappuccino to go?" Maddie was briskly approaching the counter, whipping out her card. The young man behind the register tried to explain to her that they weren't really equipped for anything but simple black coffee or tea with milk and other toppings, but leave it to Maddie to bat her lashes and have the boy running around, preparing a drink not on the menu, but on the house. "In that case," Maddie put her card away and slipped the boy enough cash to cover two coffees, closing his fingers on top of the tip, "keep the change." Although Castle couldn't see Maddie's face, he knew it must have been a sexy one, because he _could_ see the boy, and his cheeks were fairly red. "Adieu, Freddy." Reading his name tag – she was good. Castle picked up his own lunch order in a paper bag, tucking it securely under his arm and reuniting with his date.

"So will we be in the Jaguar or Lamborghini?" She cupped his elbow and moved them outside of the little side-street café. "Not bad." Madison sipped her hot drink, "Excellent service." She pinched his arm and dragged him along the sidewalk. They hadn't marched ten paces together when his cell phone rang loudly in his pocket, chiming a theme that simmered his blood and sweatied his chest. He glanced sideways at Madison, who was watching him, her mouth in an amused line. "That's her tone, isn't it?"

He nodded, helplessly.

"Answer it!" She barked, irritated with his lack of initiative. He picked up his phone.

"C-Castle." She had him on edge. Madison moved toward him, quiet-like.

"I'll catch a cab, sweetie. Goodbye, Rick. We should randevú again soon. Maybe a double date." She touched his chest and pecked the side of his mouth, walking away from him and down the wide craggily sidewalk of the West Side, every step nothing but woman.

As his voice carried after her with a bath of afternoon sunlight, she rolled her eyes, smiling pleasantly. Those two might not be sleeping together, but he was definitely a taken man. A shame, too. She could always use a midday ride around the racetrack. She wouldn't move on Richard Castle, though, for two reasons: one being Kate, and the other, Beckett.


End file.
